A Good Fight
by zedrobber
Summary: Kirk knows he enjoys a decent fight- but his reaction to one in particular has left him confused. (K/S so male loving, no STID spoilers, sex in later chapter and a whole lot of frustration.)
1. Chapter 1

If he didn't know better, Jim would have sworn Spock kept staring at him behind his back. It was ridiculous to even entertain the thought; after all Spock was…well. _Spock_, and he hadn't actually caught the Vulcan doing anything of the sort.

It was just…well, he usually just _knew_ when he was being watched, and that familiar prickle at the back of his neck was rarely wrong. But Spock was hardly the type to just be staring at someone's back, was he? He could barely keep his eyes on Jim if there was paperwork or filing or goddamn regulation-memorising to be done, never mind if Jim wasn't even _looking_ at him.

And yet….there it was again, the soft hairs at the nape of his neck rising as he felt a powerful gaze on him. He swivelled his chair casually, trying to look as though he was merely observing the crew at work, and of course Spock was bent studiously over his station, frowning slightly (or was that just his natural expression? Jim could never tell.)

Jim huffed out a sigh and turned back to the viewscreen, irritated. This had been happening for weeks now, and he was starting to seriously doubt his own body. Bones had found nothing wrong with him bar lack of sleep and an "attitude problem", whatever _that_ meant, but it still kept happening. Kirk was starting to feel paranoid.

"Captain," Spock said softly, suddenly _right at his shoulder, what the hell?_

"Gaaah!…Spock, you can't keep sneaking up on me like that."

"I was merely walking, Captain. You were not paying attention." He sounded slightly accusatory, though his eyes held no anger. Vulcan idea of humour, Jim supposed.

Jim had learned a lot over the last few months- namely that Spock _did_ have a sense of humour, even though he denied it; that Spock's eyes were human rather than Vulcan in that he could not mask his true feelings in them even when his face was a blank mask; and that he had a shitload more to still figure out about his odd First Officer, including how to get along with him. That last one seemed to be the hardest to manage, as despite several attempts, Jim seemed to be very good at getting on the wrong side of Spock, and Spock in turn was infuriating.

On a semi-related note, he had also figured out that he seemed to get off on being beaten up-mostly by Spock, which was awkward. Nothing said "I'm a capable, manly Captain and will kill you and/or dominate this situation" less than an uncomfortable erection in the middle of a fight. Or when being throttled, as that also mortifying experience on the bridge last year had proven. Thankfully Spock seemed to have either not noticed, or was mercifully sparing the Captain's blushes for reasons known only to him. Jim could still feel Spock's strong fingers around his throat, the Vulcan's muscles straining and shaking as he glared down at Jim, their bodies forced together. He could feel the Vulcan's hitching, tightly controlled breathing as the stronger man fought for some semblance of physical control. He saw again the world blurring, recalling the grey around his vision as Spock choked the breath from his lungs- and then the embarrassment and confusion as he realised he was harder than he recalled being in his entire life. Spock had looked confused, too, Jim thought he remembered- just a momentary flicker in his dark, furious eyes- but that could have been imminent unconsciousness talking.

He'd always known he liked a good fight, obviously…but there was a difference in getting off on a fight, and getting off on _losing_ one. Especially when the worst reaction always seemed to be around Spock. In fact, he seemed to be becoming a little obsessed with that Vulcan.

"Captain."

"Wha-? Oh. Sorry, Spock. What was it?"

Spock gave Jim an inscrutable look before continuing. "I was informing you that we were coming into orbit of Ko'trus, Captain. We will be ready to beam down in approximately 23.6 minutes."

"Thank you, Spock."

"Captain, are you feeling quite alright?"

"Just thinking." Jim gave what he hoped was a winning smile, and Spock paused, frowning, before nodding and retreating to his station. It was lucky Spock was just a touch telepath and not the regular kind, or Jim would have sworn that Vulcan knew _what_ he was thinking.

Ko'trus, as it turned out, was a horrifying death trap of a planet. Barely ten minutes in and they had lost two security officers, one falling to his death through a hole in the ground which spontaneously appeared, and the other setting herself on fire by touching an innocuous looking plant. Jim was determined to finish the survey, however, a decision which Spock strongly advised against.

"Captain, I must prevent you from continuing. Your life may be in danger. It is my duty to keep you safe and I am calculating an 89.6 percent chance of death on this planet."

"Well that's really very comforting, Spock," Jim said, bending down to poke his toe against a green rock. It promptly uncurled, waved slender pincers at the offending boot, and scuttled off. "Huh."

"Captain. I must protest."

"Protest away, Spocky. I'm still ignoring you."

"Please do not call me 'Spocky', Captain."

"Sorry, Pointy."

"Or Pointy," Spock continued with a hint of actual irritation. "We must beam back to the Enterprise."

"Last time I checked, _Pointy_, I was Captain." Okay, so maybe it was a bit too far, but Jim had been itching for a good fight for weeks, stuck on board with no enemies in sight.

Spock went silent and rigid, and the muscle in his cheek twitched slightly, which was never a good sign. Jim ignored him, continuing to take readings from the dull purple soil and humming gently to himself. Spock hated humming. He said it was the most illogical form of music.

Finally, Spock replied, in a clipped, precise tone which he somehow managed to make sound enraged despite its politeness, "You _are _Captain, however I am still your First Officer, and I _insist_ that we-"

"Oh, go fuck yourself, Spock. I _insist._"

"Captain, if you continue, I will be forced to use physical action against you to ensure your safety as protocol requires. Also, I do not see the relevance, nor the practicality, of performing a sexual act upon myself at this time."

"Please _do_ use physical action against me, Spock. I'm sure I will enjoy filing the report against you for assault on a superior officer."

"Very well."

Jim was sure he heard Spock growl before the Vulcan lunged at him, catching him off balance and tumbling them both to the dusty ground. He realised his game of "bait the Vulcan" may have been a bad idea roughly at the point when Spock's fist connected with his nose and he saw stars, tasting his own blood in his throat.

_Fuck._

Jim pushed up blindly, catching Spock under the chin with a loose fist. It was like hitting concrete for all the damage it did to his first Officer, Spock barely even flinching before attempting a nerve pinch. Jim rolled away clumsily, getting to his feet and swaying dizzily before throwing himself head first at Spock and slamming him backwards. He was gratified to hear Spock's grunt of pain as the air was knocked from his body, the Vulcan immobilised for a brief moment as he caught his breath. Jim took the opportunity to punch Spock in the face, wincing as his knuckles protested but somewhat satisfied to see a trickle of green blood appear as he split Spock's lip. Spock shoved him backwards with a roar, straddling Jim's legs and beginning to pummel him thoroughly. Jim pulled at Spock's hair and dug his nails into the back of the stronger man's neck, but Spock had lost all semblance of control and went in for Jim's throat, squeezing mercilessly until Jim could hear his tendons creaking.

And that's when James T Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise and all-round cool guy, realised that once again, he was painfully hard. And this time Spock could not miss it, due to his current position _right on fucking top of Jim._ He flushed crimson, trying manfully to pass out before Spock could notice he was enjoying being unable to breathe, but it was to no avail as his body refused to let him die of shame.

Spock's hands faltered, then relaxed his grip without fully letting go, his eyes black as he frowned down at Jim gasping air back into his protesting lungs. He didn't move for what seemed like an age, seemingly thinking deeply. Unfortunately his body was still tight against Jim's, and his hands were still around the Captain's throat, so the problem wasn't going away any time soon. Jim cleared his throat painfully, his eyes drawn to a long ribbon of Vulcan blood winding its way down Spock's neck in a terribly distracting way, and attempted to act nonchalant. "Spock, if you're done killing me, would you mind letting me up?" His heart thudded in his ears and he was finding it difficult to stop staring at that neck, wondering what his skin smelled like and if Vulcan blood tasted like copper and if it did, what did Vulcan come taste like and would Spock make that growling noise if he was being fucked?

Spock blinked slowly, and then Jim could have sworn that he smirked, just a little. Except Vulcans didn't smirk, right?

"Of course, Captain. My apologies." He still hadn't moved, his hands still around Jim's neck, and suddenly he _squeezed_ once more, at the same time grinding his hips- and his very obvious erection—against Jim's own, roughly, almost painfully. Just once was all he seemed to allow himself, before releasing his Captain and getting to his feet gracefully.

Before Jim could say a word, Spock turned, smoothing down his uniform and extending a hand to help the smaller man up, his face once again a mask of serenity.

It was as they beamed back up to the Enterprise that Jim realised something which made him blush all the way to his ears and wish for a spontaneous black hole to appear.

Spock was a touch telepath.

Spock had his hands wrapped around Jim's throat for the entire time he was thinking about fucking the Vulcan.

Spock clearly had either no problem with this mental scenario, or no control over whether Jim's thoughts affected his own body. Either way, there was only one reasonable response.

_Shit._


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost two days later, and they had yet to acknowledge what had happened. Okay, it was more like they had yet to _look_ at each other for more than half a second. And Jim could still feel that stare from Spock's station, despite having never caught him at it.

He glanced surreptitiously around. Nothing. Spock may as well have been asleep for all the attention he was paying to the Captain. Somehow this was more irritating than if he _had_ been looking.

Jim huffed out a sigh, swivelling around idly. He was starting to get twitchy again, and he knew only a good fight or a good fuck would sort him out.

Bones probably wouldn't be impressed, though; especially not after he and Spock had both shown up within half an hour of each other, covered in bruises and with Jim nursing a broken nose, less than 48 hours ago.

_Somehow,_ Jim's excuse of walking into a tree hadn't seemed to wash with the good Doctor, who stabbed him with about 50 hyposprays, fixed his nose, and sorted out his bruised knuckles, all the while nagging at him about "Goddamn Vulcan strength, Jim, why the hell did you decide that it was a good idea to piss the mad bastard off?" and "Don't you give me that face, Jim. I know exactly who did this to you. You have green blood on your hands and you look like you just got laid. That means a fight, and I've just had Spock in bleeding on my floor."

Once he had poked and prodded Jim and confirmed his ribs were mostly intact, Bones had given him a rough shove and told him to "go play nice" with Spock.

Jim assumed that meant "Don't come back in here and bleed on me again for at least a week."

Well, at least he hadn't promised anything.

At the end of his shift, he decided to go to the ship's gym and attempt to work out his frustration in a less …Spock-centric….way. A good workout and maybe some sparring if he could find a partner would surely distract him.

Sparring was _like_ fighting, only it didn't seem to have the same embarrassing effect on Jim as an actual brawl. In the current circumstances, this was a good thing.

He managed a good run on the treadmill and even a game of holo-squash before his thoughts turned to that fight again. Specifically, before he started thinking about Spock straddling him.

He made his way to the sparring mats, eyeing the room for a potential fighting partner and seeing no one.

He began to stretch anyway, hoping someone would take the hint.

"I could not help but notice you are looking for a sparring partner, Captain."

Okay, he'd hoped it wouldn't be _that_ someone.

"I'm just…I…" he couldn't think of another valid reason for being there, so he stopped mid-sentence, helplessly. He didn't turn around.

"I would be willing to offer my assistance, if you find it agreeable."

_Of course you would,_ Jim thought despairingly. _Because if you didn't, I might be able to just have a little fight and go to my quarters satisfied._

"..Of course, Spock." Jim turned, pasting on a fake, cheery smile. Spock looked impassive as always, his uniform replaced with a blue regulation t shirt and black sweatpants. Somehow he _still_ looked smarter than Jim felt in full dress uniform.

He followed Spock onto the mats, watching as the Vulcan stretched easily. He couldn't figure out if aroused or terrified was the best reaction to fighting Spock, so he settled for mild anxiety and pre-emptive embarrassment.

"I am ready, Captain." Spock nodded, standing straight at last. "Do you have a preferred discipline? I am skilled in several forms of human martial arts in addition to many non-human styles of hand-to-hand combat."

"…Uh…could we just…y'know…fight? Like a street brawl? You just use whatever…discipline…you find most comfortable."

Spock's eyebrow twitched. "Of course. When you are ready."

Jim swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and nodded. "Let's go."

They stepped closer together, and began to circle each other a little warily. Jim wasn't entirely sure what to expect in a controlled setting such as this, and he was a little unwilling to throw the first punch.

Spock, it seemed, had no such qualms, landing a blow almost instantaneously to the side of Jim's head which made his vision blurry and his ears ring. Another followed quickly, and Jim ducked to avoid a third, stepping out of the way and aiming a punch at Spock's stomach which seemed to do no damage at all. Groggily, his vision still a little off, Jim moved back before lashing out with both fists at Spock's face. One missed entirely, but the other landed with a satisfyingly solid _thunk_ which made Jim grin- for a moment, at least. Spock countered with a devastatingly powerful kick to the back of Jim's knees, and he fell to all fours, panting. "Fuck."

"I am sorry, Captain. Would you like me to moderate my attacks? As I am three times stronger than you, it would seem fair to attempt to make myself a better match."

Jim couldn't tell if that was a smug tone creeping in, or if Spock was even capable of being condescending, but he took it as the signal he needed to let go. Spitting blood, he got to his feet and launched himself at the Vulcan, landing several heavy punches to Spock's face and even managing to break his nose. Okay, his knuckles would kill him for that later, but it was still _exhilarating_ to watch the blood come pouring out. Spock looked startled, like no one had done that before, and Jim smiled viciously, continuing his assault. Finally Spock seemed to figure out that this wasn't a mock-fight anymore, and his stance lowered, his muscles coiling like a predator and his eyes dark as he retaliated with a deft punch that rattled Jim's teeth. Jim was barely even aware of the fact he was hard, too busy navigating the fight- but he was suddenly made all too aware of it as Spock crashed him onto his back, once again straddling him but this time favouring a one handed choke as the other pinned his wrists above his head. Spock snarled, tightening his grip on Jim's neck and wrists, his face inches above the smaller man. Green blood was drying almost black on his nose and lips, one eye bruised. His breath was hot and harsh against Jim's cheek as he squeezed.

"Must you constantly attempt to elicit an emotional response, Captain?" Spock growled quietly into Jim's ear-indicating that it was working, at least. "Why would you attempt to assert your dominance over me by engaging in combat which you can never win? My calculations seem to indicate that it is something else, something you attempt to hide from me. You forget, _Jim_, that I can feel _everything_ that you do when I have you like _this_…when I could crush the life from _you_ as easily as breathing." With every emphasis, Spock pushed his hips against Jim's roughly, the thin material between their bodies doing nothing to disguise the fact that they were both hard once again. Jim bit back a groan, attempting to avoid undue attention, and tried in vain to think about anything except fucking the Vulcan's brains out. Spock stared down at him, his eyes black and unreadable.

"Spock…" Jim hissed at last between gritted teeth. "Get off me or get on with it, for fuck's sake. You know what I'm thinking, you know what I want."

There was a moment of tight, expectant silence between them at the invitation; Spock's lips a fraction of an inch from Jim's.

And then it was broken, as quickly as it had begun, by the sound of Sulu and Chekov entering the gym, joking and jostling with each other. Spock was on his feet in an instant, once again extending his hand to his Captain as though Jim had merely slipped.

"We should report to sick bay, Captain."

"Aw, fuck. You should have just killed me." Jim took the proffered assistance and they walked in silence towards their inevitable doom.

McCoy took one look at their faces and gesticulated wildly at them. "What do you think this is- a playground? Damn it Jim, I'm a Doctor, not a school nurse! Look at you two, standing there like naughty children! It's the hyposprays for both of you!"

Spock folded his hands behind his back and attempted to look contrite. Jim shoved his into his pockets and sulked. Neither made the Doctor relent, and with a vicious, sadistic glee, he pulled out the most old fashioned, painful looking antique hypospray he owned and advanced upon them. Jim and Spock both backed away a little, eyes wide. "Bones! You can't seriously use that thing!"

"Oh, I don't know Jim…these were built to last," McCoy replied with a wolfish grin. "I'm sure I could jam it into a vein somewhere…"

Even Spock looked paler than usual, all but quailing before the Doctor in a subtle, Vulcan way. Jim could feel a fine sheen of perspiration break out on his forehead as he internally struggled with the question- _Is Bones mad enough to use that?_ and came up with _yes _every time.

Thankfully, Bones wasn't quite ready to break his prized antique trying to stab them, and he put it down almost regretfully. "Come here, you useless pair of good-for-nothing children, and let me fix your damned cuts. Spock, your nose is broken, as I'm sure you were about to inform me."

"Indeed, Doctor. Possibly in two places."

Bones sighed and patched them up, making sure to poke Jim more than was strictly necessary.

"Right, you're done. Can you at least _try_ to not make each other bleed for a few days?"

"My apologies, Doctor."

"Sorry, Bones."

"…Quit sounding like naughty school boys already, damn it- get out of here so I can deal with people who are actually sick!" Bones gestured impatiently to the door, and Jim and Spock left at a pace only slightly slower than sprinting. Spock, of course, made it look like it was his normal walking speed. They hesitated outside the doors, looking at each other. Jim was sure he could sense Spock wanting to say something, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest as he waited to hear it. _Captain, I believe we should cease socialising outside of work hours._

Except it didn't come. Spock opened his mouth to speak and then stopped, inhaling sharply as though he was …nervous…?

Jim frowned.

"Spock?"

"…It is nothing, Captain. I was about to ask if you had any desire to engage in a game of chess with me this evening- perhaps in an hour. We both still have many hours before our shift begins, and it is a stimulating use of our mental faculties. Of course if you do not, I-"

"Spock, stop. Stop already! I'll play, but please stop acting like it's some huge deal to even ask me. It's kinda awkward."

"I apologise, Captain. I was merely attempting to arouse your int—"

"I think we should try not to arouse anything of mine, thanks," he replied before he could stop himself. Mortified, he gaped at Spock, who merely twitched an eyebrow.

"Indeed," was his cryptic reply, before he turned and walked away sedately as though Jim had merely described his breakfast.

It was only because he was staring at the retreating back of the Vulcan that Jim noticed the tips of his ears were flushed green.

_I believe this could be classed as "fascinating."_


	3. Chapter 3

_So. Chess. As in tri-dimensional, really fucking complex chess,_ Jim mused, looking through the computer to find tutorials in order to not look like an idiot. _We can do this. Maybe._

He knew _chess_, as in one-board-lets-just-go-one-way chess, but he was somewhat daunted by playing _upwards_. Still, if doing this helped to ease the tensions between him and his first officer- which, he had to admit, really needed easing-then he would give it a go and deal with looking potentially ridiculous in front of the chess genius.

"Enter," Spock said as Jim hesitated outside the door to his quarters. He hadn't actually been here yet, and he wasn't entirely sure on Vulcan visitor etiquette.

"Uh…thanks," he replied, stepping inside and looking around curiously. It was _so warm, holy fuck._ To Jim, it could have been a desert in a heat wave- he felt a trickle of sweat on his brow almost instantly. There was a whole bookshelf full of real books at one side, and some Vulcan artefacts on the walls. Jim had no idea what they were, but they looked kinda dangerous. He resisted the urge to look at Spock's bed.

"My apologies, Captain," Spock said as he looked up. "I will lower the temperature to a more comfortable level for you."

"Why, are you trying to tell me I'm hot?" Jim grinned as Spock did just that.

"I do not understand, Captain. I understood you to be perspiring, which would indicate that yes, you are warm. Am I mistaken?"

"…Never mind."

They sat at a small table Spock had provided, the chess board already set up and waiting. Jim eyed it, suddenly nervous that he was going to knock everything over and break it. It was shiny. Glass, metal, all elegant curves and lines. Like Spock in chess form. Only less likely to get on his nerves.

_Come on, Jim. He's made the effort to attempt to get along with you- the least you can do is try. All you seem to contribute is awkwardness and bloody noses._

Clearing his throat, Jim sat down, forcing a smile at Spock. "So, I guess you're pretty good at this, huh?"

"I am…proficient," Spock allowed, joining Jim at the table.

"Well shit, that means you're an expert. I give in already."

Spock almost smiled, a twitch of his facial muscles that most people would think involuntary, but to Jim it was the equivalent of a grin. He returned it with a genuine smile, and they both seemed to relax a little, the tension in the air clearing.

"I'm serious though. I've only played the…uh…flat version of this game. So we might have a problem."

Spock leaned forward in his chair. "I can offer you a brief explanation of the rules before we begin, if you wish, Captain? It is, at a basic level, very similar to standard chess."

"Sure. And Spock, we're off duty. You should...uh…call me Jim, okay?"

"Yes, Captain."

"….Never mind. Carry on."

"Very well. The larger sections, here, are fixed in their position. The smaller sections can be moved by a player, when empty or when only your pawns are on that section. I will guide you further on their movement when we play. The movement of your pieces is essentially, the same as for standard chess. However, when viewing the board from above, your piece should be able to make a standard chess move to the square you wish it to go. Also when you move, you may move up or down one or more levels, but you must use the non-fixed sections to do so- you cannot hop between the three fixed sections alone."

Jim sighed. "You'd better just help me out at first, Spock."

"Of course, Captain. I shall begin."

Jim watched as Spock reached out a slender hand to move his first pawn.

_Looks easy enough._

Jim faked confidence as he reached to make his own move. Spock nodded to indicate he was within the rules, and Jim grinned, leaning back in his chair.

Half an hour later, Jim could see Spock was getting a little frustrated, though to his credit, the Vulcan was being as graciously helpful as possible. Jim had been hesitating over a move for the last 6 minutes (admittedly whilst thinking about better uses he could imagine for Spock's hands), and clearly Spock had decided it was prudent to help, as he reached over to tap the piece Jim should think about using.

Unfortunately, Jim reached out to move it at the same time and their fingers brushed against each other. Spock leapt back as though he had been shocked, his face and ears immediately flushing green. Jim frowned. _What the hell?_

"Uh…sorry," he said slowly, wondering why Spock had now neatly folded his hands into his lap as though nothing had happened

"It is quite alright, Captain," Spock replied almost primly, making his move.

Jim shrugged it off, concentrating on not losing too badly.

And then it happened again.

And again.

Eventually, Jim started finding ways to _make _it happen, absolutely intrigued at the strangled noises Spock was making. The Vulcan was also breathing faster, a fact Jim could see clearly at such close range. Finally he managed to turn his hand at the last moment and slide his two first fingers along Spock's. That was apparently the last straw for Spock, who stood up so fast his chair went skidding across the floor. "Please, Captain. I must ask you to desist this inappropriate touching."

"Spock, are you _hard?_" Jim said in utter delight.

"Captain, I insist-"

"You _are!_ What is it with Vulcans and hands?"

Spock paused for a long moment while Jim stared at his obvious erection.

"…Vulcan hands…fingers in particular…are very sensitive. Vulcans use them as an…intimate…form of touch and expression. What you just did to my hands would be classed by humans as 'making out', in its crudest form."

"We made out and you got _that_ wound up? Is there something you wanna tell me, Spock?"

"Such as?"

"Well from that reaction, either you are _really_ into me, or you're the equivalent of a blushing teenage virgin."

"…."

"Oh. But you and Uhura…?"

"We…did not proceed to that level of intimacy. Our attraction was a purely intellectual one and we parted ways…almost… amicably." He paused. "I believe she wanted to make our relationship physical. I … did not. This gave her concerns as to her attractiveness which I tried to refute. However I was simply not able or willing to take the next step she wanted. I have researched the various methods and ways in which one can engage in sexual activity, however."

"Ah."

_Well, this is awkward. He's stood there with a boner and I'm sat debating whether I should offer him assistance- which is awkward in itself, fuck, how do you ask a Vulcan if they need a good shag?-and all the time there's this chess set sat between us like some kind of cock block._

This suddenly seemed hilariously funny to Jim, and he choked back laughter until he couldn't breathe anymore and had to let it out in a raucous guffaw, laughing till his eyes streamed and he was dizzy.

Spock looked like he couldn't decide between furious and embarrassed, glaring at him until Jim had calmed sufficiently to stop hiccupping.

"I did not realise that my relationship status was that amusing to you, Captain," he said stiffly.

"It isn't! I mean-it-" Jim fought hard and won against the resurgence of giggles. "-I was thinking about how the chess board was…you know what, you wouldn't find it funny." Jim stood a little shakily, and crossed the room to where Spock was standing. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and stepped into Spock's personal space, expecting a punch to the nose.

It didn't happen.

Jim grinned apologetically and held up his hand. "Want to show me how to do that kiss thing properly? I don't want the reputation of kissing like a slobbery dog in Vulcan."

"I do not wish to know of your planned conquests of the Vulcan species, Captain," Spock replied archly, not making eye contact.

"Spock, don't be an idiot. I have no plans to make conquests of your people," Jim snapped, embarrassed.

"Then why would you wish me to teach you the most intimate touch 'my people' possess outside of the bond?"

"Because…uh. 'Cos I'd like to try it with you again."

"….Fascinating."

Spock raised his hand with his index and middle finger outstretched. Jim copied him hesitantly, and watched as Spock brushed his two fingers up the underside of Jim's, all the way. A strange shiver ran down his spine as he saw Spock visibly shudder, the Vulcan quickly returning his hands to his sides.

_Well, fuck, if that isn't the hottest thing I've seen all day,_ Jim thought.

And now Spock wasn't the only one with an erection.

_Typical._

Spock raised one eyebrow and cleared his throat. "Captain, I do believe you are experiencing arousal."

"…Thank you Spock, I had noticed."

"I have also noted that on twelve other occasions, you displayed a state of arousal when engaging in physical arguments with me."

"Twelve?"

"Indeed. This leads me to the conclusion that you find the idea of engaging in other physical activities with me somewhat stimulating."

"…Uh."

"If I am wrong, however, do feel free to stop me."

Jim didn't even have time to register the last sentence before Spock was pushing him backwards against the far too flimsy table. It held up courageously for a few seconds, wobbling, before it and the chess set went crashing to the floor, followed by Jim and Spock. Jim winced as he landed on hard plastic, hearing it crack under the combined weight of his body and the Vulcan who was on top of him. However he couldn't spare it much thought as Spock was currently attacking his neck with his mouth instead of his hands for once and it was _good_. He licked up from Jim's collarbone, his higher temperature hot against Jim's skin. Then he bit down hard, and the human was suddenly very much aware of his surroundings, arching his back into the sudden sharp nip.

"Fuck!"

"Momentarily, Captain," Spock snarled against his neck.

Jim groaned, pushing his hips up to meet Spock's in attempt to gain friction. Spock merely bit harder at Jim's throat and pinned him down even more effectively.

"Oh, come on, Spock," Jim grumbled, panting. "Stop teasing me."

"I am merely cataloguing your reactions, Captain, for later reference." Spock pulled his head back to reply to Jim, and he took the opportunity instantly, winding his fingers into Spock's hair and dragging him in for a human kiss- rough, possessive and heated. Spock only seemed surprised for a fraction of a second before he growled and returned the kiss, soon overpowering Jim with his insistent dominance.

Jim managed to get his hands under the back of Spock's shirt, dragging blunt nails across his skin in an attempt to pull him closer. In retaliation, Spock bit Jim's lip hard enough to draw blood, then leaned back to grab at Jim's shirt and tug it over his head, tossing it behind them carelessly. Jim struggled with Spock's shirt, wanting to feel more of the Vulcan _now_, eventually dragging it over the Vulcan's head and dropping it. He only had a moment to admire the pale, leanly muscled skin in front of him before Spock pushed him down once more; tangling his fingers into Jim's hair and tugging his head back hard at the same time. Jim hit the broken shards of the chess set again, feeling them dig into his back uncomfortably, but Spock was pressed against him, kissing him again and grinding his hips against Jim's in a maddening way which just wasn't _quite_ enough friction, and suddenly the discomfort was a small price to pay.

"Spock, I wanted to talk to you about our argument-"

Spock and Jim looked up to the door, where Uhura was staring open mouthed after letting herself in. Spock clearly hadn't engaged the lock.

"Lieutenant Uhura, I was not expecting you," Spock managed after a brief pause. "I had believed you to have had your final say on our relationship ending."

"Well it clearly was the final say for you!"

"This isn't what it looks li-"Jim started, before trailing off lamely as he realised that it was, indeed, _exactly_ what it looked like. Which was him and Spock on the floor, semi naked and kissing.

"It isn't? Oh well, my apologies, Captain! I _thought_ it looked like you and my _ex_-" that was directed very pointedly at Spock, who merely shrugged mildly from his position on top of the Captain " -were engaging in _foreplay_. But if I'm wrong- I mean, if you're helping the Captain with some kind of ailment- perhaps a splinter in his pants- _do _tell me, Spock. I wouldn't want to get the wrong idea. You know us illogical humans."

Spock paused, as dignified as it was possible to be from the floor, before replying.

"Uhura, I understood that our relationship was at an end. Was there a particular reason you felt the need to enter my quarters uninvited?"

Jim stayed silent, for possibly the first time in his entire life.

"Well, Spock, I _was_ going to apologise for suggesting that the reason you could not maintain an erection with me was because you were sexually immature. However, it looks like you and the Captain are already getting more intimate than we did in over a _year, _so that seems to have been an unfounded claim anyway_._"

_Couldn't keep an erection?_ Jim thought incredulously, wriggling a little against the very obvious cock above him. Spock gave him a quick glare. Jim looked innocent.

"Uhura, I do not believe this is the best time for this discussion."

"Oh, I think it's the _most_ convenient time I can manage."

"Then I am afraid you must continue the topic alone. Please let yourself out, I should report to sickbay as I appear to have some bruising and scratches on my back. Excuse me, Captain." Spock got to his feet gracefully, and stalked past Uhura without a second glance as though he wasn't half naked and hard.

Uhura turned her attention to Jim, who was getting to his feet painfully, all too aware of the cuts on his back now that he wasn't engaged in other activities.

"And _you,_ Captain. What on earth were you doing?"

Jim began limping past her. "Well, I _was _about to get laid, before little miss cockblocker arrived," he muttered, a little too loudly.

Uhura punched him smartly in the nose, and blood started pouring out, clearly still tender from the last abuse. "Ow! What the fuck is it with people punching my nose this week?"

He left, heading straight for sickbay and clutching at his nose.


	4. Chapter 4

"And how exactly did you get _another_ broken nose, Jim?" Bones asked, exasperated, as Jim joined Spock in sickbay.

"Uhurapunchedme," he said, faking a cough. Bones looked utterly delighted.

"Sorry, what was that again?"

"I said, Uhura…punched…me."

The Doctor laughed, needing to hold onto his desk for support. "Remind me to give that lady a warm handshake next time I see her. Why would she punch you, Jim? Not that I can't think of a dozen reasons why someone wouldn't want to break your nose."

"…"

Spock cut in smoothly, as though it was completely normal. "Lieutenant Uhura entered my quarters unexpectedly while the Captain and I were…engaging in a very stimulating game of chess."

"She punched you because of chess?"

"No, Doctor McCoy. Uhura assaulted the Captain due to the compromising nature of our position at the time she entered."

"Which means what in human terms, you green blooded robot?"

"He means, Bones, that we were about as close to _fucking_ on the remnants of a chess set as it is possible to be with your pants on. Now please, can you stop my nose bleeding and take the bits of plastic outta my back before I pass out!"

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

Spock shook his head. "I am afraid not, Doctor. Also I require treatment for several scratches on my back. I believe some of them are deep."

"I feel sick."

"Doctor McCoy, I would recommend a hypospray if you are feeling nauseous."

"You idiot, Spock. I was- never mind. I just don't want to hear the sordid little details of your sex lives, _please_. I'm a doctor, not a therapist. Though I'll need one, if I can't get that image out of my damn mind. Now hold still, Jim, quit squirming like a baby or I can't fix your face. And for the love of all things sacred, do _not_ furnish me with any more details of your clearly _beautiful_ love."

Once Jim was patched up, Bones turned to Spock. "And you, you great pointy eared fool, need to learn that humans don't have skin like old leather boots. So do me a favour and try not to throw the Captain onto any more board games."

"Yes, Doctor," Spock said meekly.

"And for God's sake, get a room."

"But Doctor, we were _in_ my quarters when Lieutenant Uhura entered. I do not understand what you-"

"Get out."

"C'mon, Spock," Jim urged, dragging Spock out before McCoy got trigger happy with his needles again.

"But I do not understand," Spock insisted to Jim, safely outside sickbay. "We were indeed in my room, so-"

"He is trying to insinuate that we should keep our … uh… sexual interactions somewhere he doesn't have to deal with them."

"But we were not engaging in coitus in sickbay, Captain."

"…Spock, how about you go have that conversation with Uhura now? I'm going to bed."

_There it is again._ It was horrifically bright and early the next morning and Jim was in the chair, idly playing with the buttons between signing paperwork- and he could feel that gaze on him again.

Except this time, he _knew_ it had to be Spock.

He'd felt the same intensity of focus on him from the Vulcan just hours before, and he was pretty sure he'd now recognise it anywhere, for the rest of his life. But he was _completely_ unable to catch the sneaky bastard at it! Every time he turned, Spock was diligently filing, or prodding some sensor thing at his station, or calmly discussing readings with the crew member next to him, his uniform crisp and neat, his hair irritatingly sleek. Damn, did he want to mess that hair up.

Finally, Jim decided to be pro-active.

"Spock," he called in what he hoped was a friendly but neutral way- it would not do for the rest of the bridge crew to hear the way his voice wanted to turn itself into the vocal equivalent of bedroom eyes when he spoke to his First Officer.

"Captain?" came the careful reply, as Spock turned to face him. Jim frowned. Spock's nose looked freshly healed and still slightly swollen. Jim beckoned him over, curious.

"What happened to your nose?" he asked in a low voice.

"…Lieutenant Uhura punched me."

"So I'm guessing that conversation didn't go well?"

"I appear to have frustrated her. She said, "You are gay," and I merely replied that I was not feeling particularly happy or frolicsome at that time; which I believe to be an accurate response as I was experiencing both some discomfort from the scratches on my back and some residual arousal from our encounter, which I had not had a chance to relieve."

"…Ah." Jim tried to ignore the way his brain completely bypassed the hilarity and focused right on the fact that Spock was in need of some self-loving. It was difficult. "Spock, Uhura was referring to the fact that you seem to prefer relationships with men. It's a slang term."

"That would explain why she became so angry when I did not respond as she expected. I did not realise that "You are so gay for the Captain," was a euphemism. I wrongly assumed that she meant I enjoyed your friendship and felt happiness around you. My response was clearly inadequate."

Jim managed to avoid giggling, but barely.

"Yes, Spock, I imagine it was."

"_Is_ this a relationship, Captain? Both you and the Doctor have insinuated that-"

"Fucking hell, Spock, this is hardly the place to discuss how we go about defining a few-"

"Thirteen, Captain."

"-thirteen vaguely erotic encounters, ranging from the embarrassing to the incredibly frustrating, and not one of them culminating in anything resembling satisfaction for either party. It needs to be discussed in _private_-"

"Tonight, perhaps, over another game of chess?"

"….You broke the board with my back."

"I am equipped with a spare."

"Of course you are."

"Then we are agreed? Twenty-one hundred hours?"

"Fine."

Spock nodded and returned to his station. Jim frowned, staring out of the viewscreen in irritable silence, until he saw Sulu swivel his chair towards him.

"Thirteen, Captain?" he said with an innocent smile which was completely ruined by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

_Oh, great .Everyone heard that, then._

"Sulu."

"Sorry, Captain," Sulu replied in a completely unrepentant manner, turning his chair back around to the front and holding his hand out towards Chekov. Chekov pouted and handed over a small bottle of what looked like antique whiskey, and Sulu deposited it beside his station with a flourish.

"You guys had a _bet_ on me having a thing with Spock?!"

Every head on the bridge turned to the Captain's chair. Sulu grinned. "Not so much a _bet,_ Captain. More a….gentle disagreement which we chose to resolve with a wager. I won."

"Is there _anyone _on this ship who _hasn't_ been gleefully awaiting the day I fuck my First Officer?"

Uhura piped up, "I can't say I'm particularly thrilled…"

"I believe my broken nose was evidence enough of that, thank you Lieutenant. I do hope it helped. Get on with your work, _please._ All of you."

There was a scuffle of activity as the bridge crew pretended they'd been working all along. Jim scowled and tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, desperately hoping for a Klingon attack or a sudden black hole anomaly, or hell, even a _meeting._

None came, and the rest of his shift passed agonisingly slowly. He didn't feel Spock's stare on him again either, which left him feeling weirdly lonely.


	5. Chapter 5

At precisely 21.00 hours, Jim stood outside Spock's quarters, apprehensively deciding how best to announce himself. _How the hell do I even start this? Oh hey Spock, so let's discuss how fucked up and awkward this thing we're doing is? Why did I even agree to have this conversation?_

Eventually Spock opened the door, clearly concerned as Jim was late. He seemed momentarily confused as to why the Captain was stood right in front of him. "Captain?"

"Uh, hey Spock."

"Come in."

Jim followed him inside, hearing the door slide shut gently behind his back and suddenly very aware of his proximity to the Vulcan. The chess board was there, a new table replacing the one his spine had the audacity to break. It looked so innocuous, so innocent there between them. Spock folded himself into his chair with a grace Jim only ever noticed in bizarre, everyday situations like this; he never even thought about it when Spock was running, climbing, and shooting, or any of the dangerous tasks he performed on dusty, savage planets when their lives were in danger- and yet Jim was acutely aware of every detail as Spock merely sat down, could almost hear his heartbeat across the space between them. He followed suit, feeling inelegant compared to the Vulcan, and folded his arms awkwardly, elbows resting on the table.

"So."

"Shall we play as we talk, Captain? I often find it a relaxing pastime, akin to meditation in many ways."

"Sure. And it's Jim."

Spock ignored him, beginning the game.

They played in silence for a long time, the only sounds their breathing and the gentle click of chess pieces on glass. Jim tried to begin several times, but his throat was constricted and dry, the words stuck before they came out. Eventually, Spock obliged.

"Captain, I have researched the various uses of the term "relationship" using the computer. It does not seem that our current status reflects the usage I believe Doctor McCoy and yourself were inferring. Am I correct?"

"Yeah, I'd say you were. People in a relationship don't usually spend their time punching each other and not getting laid."

Spock made his next move as though he hadn't heard.

"I believe that your tone conveys regret. It is your move."

"…You could call it that." Jim took his turn and then leaned back in his chair. "Spock, you infuriate me. You know that? You're all neat and precise and picky and it's the most annoying thing in the whole world."

"You do not wish to continue our association?"

"I didn't say that."

"You are most illogical, Captain."

"And isn't that why you find me _fascinating?_" he grinned.

"Perhaps. You are also…frustrating. You are reckless and headstrong and you often fail to comprehend the most basic of ideas whilst you are simultaneously highly intelligent. I find this both illogical and an impractical use of your mind."

"You're so sweet."

"I fail to see how that is relevant. It is your move again. Please pay more attention."

"Sorry."

A few minutes of silence later, Spock continued.

"I would be agreeable to advancing our current status to that of a relationship. I find that being in close proximity with you lessens my emotional control."

_What?_

"Well, shit Spock. I don't even know."

"You do not find me aesthetically pleasing? I have been assured many times that I am not unattractive."

"That's not the problem, Spock. I-I just don't really _do_ relationships."

"I suspect this is due to a fear of commitment."

"…Thank you for your professional analysis."

"You are rejecting my suggestion?"

"…Spock, don't get me wrong. I think you're hot- aesthetically pleasing, I mean. Really. And I would be lying if I said I wasn't interested. I just don't think I can…y'know, be in a relationship."

_What the fuck am I even saying? Am I that much of an idiot that I'm rejecting the chance to fuck Spock? I am so, so stupid._

"I believe I can persuade you otherwise, Captain."

"Then by all means, go for it." Jim gestured expansively at himself. "I'm all yours."

"I do not believe that to be true as of yet. Perhaps I can remedy this."

Spock pushed himself to his feet suddenly, his muscles tensing under his shirt. Jim watched him curiously, watched his stance shift minutely from nervous to predatory, and barely had time to react before Spock was around the table and on him, the chair crashing to the floor as the Vulcan grabbed him by the throat and shoved him bodily against the wall. Jim grunted, winded and confused, and opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Spock kissing him with vicious, snarling possessiveness, his grip still tight on Jim's neck. Jim could do nothing but return the bruising force of the kiss as best as he could, grabbing at Spock's shirt to keep himself upright. He managed to shift one hand to pull hard at Spock's hair, not expecting the guttural growl he got in reaction but revelling in how it seemed to reverberate through his own body as Spock pushed himself impossibly closer.

Just as Jim was beginning to give as good as he was getting, Spock pulled back, grabbing the Captain's shirt and hauling him away from the wall. He turned them both and pushed, hard, and Jim found himself stumbling backwards clumsily, Spock stalking towards him with a dark, intense expression that terrified and exhilarated him in equal measure.

"Spock, what are you doing?" he managed to ask, his throat feeling bruised and sore. Spock didn't answer, pushing him backwards again, and Jim felt the back of his knees hit something hard. He fell back, realising it was Spock's bed just as he landed on it in an awkward, sprawling tangle.

_Oh, shit. He's either going to kill me or fuck me- and I don't know which would be preferable, with that look on his face._

"I wish to divest you of your clothing, Captain," Spock said in a low voice, already kicking off his own boots in a decidedly un-Vulcan manner.

_Well, that shouldn't be sexy._

"Uh…you need my permission?"

"No. I was merely stating intent. I will remove your clothing with or without your permission."

_Fuck._

Spock had that almost-smirk on his face again as he did just that, pulling Jim's shirt off roughly and throwing it behind him. He made short work of the rest of the uniform, leaving Jim naked, hard, and more than a little embarrassed as Spock was almost fully dressed.

"Spock, seriously. Get naked."

"You talk entirely too much."

"I don't care. Get naked. I'm dying."

"And you are also melodramatic and illogical."

"We covered this earlier."

Spock tugged his own shirt off, then the rest of his clothing, seeming to Jim as though he was being deliberately, maddeningly slow just to annoy him. Finally he was naked, and Jim could stare all he wanted.

Spock was lean, powerful; his skin pale and unscarred with only the faintest translucent green tint betraying his Vulcan heritage. Jim's eyes wandered, fascinated, across the unfamiliar territory of Spock's body, his gaze eventually moving down with apprehensive curiosity._ Fuck, he's …uh...well, fucking huge. I am in for a world of pain. _

"Spock, I don-"

With a quick flurry of motion, Spock was suddenly straddling him again, pinning Jim's wrists either side of his head.

"Shut up," he hissed into Jim's ear.

Jim did.

Seemingly satisfied with Jim's obedience, Spock bit at his ear not quite gently. Jim felt the ghost of his breath against his cheek before he pulled back a little to survey his prey. "You will cease to speak unless it is either a curse or my name, unless instructed otherwise. Do you understand?"

Jim nodded, his breath hitching as he looked up at the Vulcan. Spock looked black eyed and intimidating in the dim light of the room, and Jim's heart thudded painfully in his chest in an exhilarating mixture of terror and arousal. "Good." He sat back a little. "You will orally stimulate me."

"Wh-"

"Allow me to demonstrate." Narrowing his eyes, Spock moved up the bed swiftly, kneeling painfully over Jim's shoulders. Jim had only a moment to think _Oh, that kid of orally stimulate- _before Spock grabbed his hair tightly and twisted, using the moment Jim cried out in shock to thrust his cock into the Captain's mouth, viciously and without warning. Jim gagged, his eyes watering in pain, as Spock continued to brutally fuck his mouth, the double ridges on his cock catching at the back of his throat with every thrust. Finally Jim started to get a rhythm, moving his head in time with Spock's hips and managing to gain some control over the situation. The Vulcan tasted faintly of copper and salt; odd but not unpleasant. Jim used his tongue to add some friction and Spock growled, tugging at Jim's hair hard enough to make him whine. Unfortunately Spock seemed to enjoy that, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Jim could hear him, his breath harsh and short, and he felt a sudden rush of arousal that _he_ was causing that reaction. He sucked a little harder, flicking his tongue over the head of Spock's erection, and the Vulcan shuddered, pulling away and releasing his grip on Jim's hair. Jim coughed reflexively, his throat feeling bruised on the inside now as well as the outside. He looked up at Spock uncertainly, enjoying how black his eyes were as he stared down at Jim, his breathing ragged. Jim grinned a little, opened his mouth to make a joke, when he remembered Spock's instructions and shut it again. Spock nodded once, unblinking.

"I am going to fuck you, Captain."

_Holy shit he said fuck I might just come now-_

"You will not touch yourself unless I instruct."

-_fuck._

Spock moved back, settling between Jim's thighs. The relief on his shoulders was immense, and he sighed gratefully, watching as Spock reached over them to his shelf and picked up a beautiful glass bottle filled with some kind of golden liquid. His curiosity clearly showed on his face, as Spock explained. "It is some of the oil I use when meditating. It is my understanding that human males require some form of lubrication when engaging in penetrative sexual acts. I would not wish to damage you beyond repair."

_Beyond rep—hang on, how much IS he willing to damage me?_

Jim groaned, somehow finding the thought of Spock doing some damage not particularly upsetting. His cock apparently liked the thought too, throbbing almost painfully, but Jim tried to ignore it in case Spock decided to not let him come at all. Spock spared him an almost amused glance, clearly picking up some of what Jim was thinking from their skin-to-skin contact, and took his hand, turning it and pouring a little of the sweet-scented oil into Jim's palm. "Prepare me."

Jim didn't need a demonstration for that as he propped himself up on his elbows, rolling the oil between his hands and spreading it over Spock's erection slowly, wanting to hear the Vulcan's breath hitch in that delightful way again. He spent some time running his fingertips over the double ridges at the head of his cock, intrigued by their shape and by the very faint green flush of Spock's skin. Spock bit back a noise that Jim could have sworn was a moan, before pushing his hands away impatiently. "Stop."

Jim frowned and glanced up to Spock's face, worried he was doing something wrong. It didn't look like it, as Spock was breathing hard, his eyes narrowed and black. "What's the mat-" he began, stopping dead as Spock gave him a dark, hungry look, dipping two of his fingers into the bottle of oil as Jim watched.

"On your back."

Jim complied, his breath cut short as Spock abruptly grabbed his legs and pulled him closer, hooking his ankles over the Vulcan's shoulders. For one silent, anxious second he didn't dare to breathe, his heart thudding painfully with anticipation and arousal.

He hissed between his teeth as he felt Spock slide one finger into him, followed a little too quickly by a second. Wincing, Jim forced himself to relax, concentrating on his breathing as Spock fucked him roughly with his fingers until the Vulcan was satisfied he was ready. Jim wasn't so sure, already sore and aching, but Spock was insistent, digging his nails viciously into Jim's hips and pinning him against the bed. He entered Jim savagely, barely pausing before beginning a hard, pounding rhythm which had the Captain clawing at the bed, at Spock, at anything within reach to keep himself steady. "Christ, you bastard-"he gasped out between breaths, blinking back tears at the pain.

"I am not…a bastard, nor…am I…" Spock began, his usually precise, neutral voice rough and low. "…_fuck, Jim." _Losing control, finally, he began to thrust even harder, drawing a breathless groan from Jim as the burning pain changed slowly into a deep, aching pleasure. Jim grabbed at the bed to push himself up, matching Spock's thrusts desperately and arching his head to kiss the Vulcan, messy and hot and full of need. Spock was growling, snarling; his teeth bared as he let himself just _feel_. Jim could sense every muscle in Spock's body tensed, trembling minutely with exertion; could see the fine beads of sweat on his pale skin and the way his eyes never left Jim's own. His cock ached for attention; he was desperate for relief but unwilling to incur Spock's wrath.

As if in response, Spock shifted his weight to one hand, the other gripping Jim's already painful throat _hard_. Jim felt his vision going blurry around the edges, his heart pounding in his ears as he gasped for breath until Spock loosened his grasp minutely, just enough to make it arousing instead of terrifying- but with the definite implication that he could kill Jim at any moment if he chose.

"You will beg for release."

"I will _not."_

Spock tightened his grip again, thrusting viciously so that Jim let out a choked, painful moan. His vision swam, a tell-tale ringing in his ears indicating he would pass out soon.

"Please," he gasped out.

"You are under…the mistaken assumption, _Captain_, that I do not have the dedication…to force you," Spock hissed between clenched teeth, slowing his thrusts so he could deepen them, rolling his hips in a maddening way that was getting Jim nowhere fast- and deliberately, if Jim were to take a guess.

"_Please_ let me come, Spock," he tried again, his eyes prickling with tears in sheer desperation. He could feel himself teetering on the edge of orgasm, just unable to reach it without some kind of physical touch, and his whole body was shaking with the frustration. "_Please."_

Spock smirked, a strangely natural expression on him, as he clearly sensed everything Jim was thinking and feeling with no small measure of smugness.

"You may come, Jim," he said finally, as though he was a gracious king allowing his servant to lick his boot. Jim almost sobbed in relief as Spock began to fuck him brutally again, his nails digging into Jim's throat with every thrust. Jim barely had to touch his cock before he was there, coming with a white-hot intensity that he'd never felt. He groaned, his head falling back onto the pillow, and caught Spock's eyes as the Vulcan followed, baring his teeth in a wordless roar and burying himself deep into Jim as he came.


	6. Chapter 6

The awkward silence began as soon as Spock rolled off Jim, leaving them side by side and staring at the ceiling. Jim was sticky and sore, every muscle in his body feeling used and exhausted- and he loved it. He stretched contentedly. Spock lay rigid and silent beside him, his breathing already nearly normal again.

"So. As conversations go, that was pretty good," Jim offered finally with a small smile, turning his head to look at Spock. Spock looked back without replying for a long moment. _Fuck. He regrets it already. No more bruises for me. And that should not be my first concern._

"Indeed," he responded after a long pause, carefully neutral.

"I…uh, would be okay with having this particular 'conversation' again."

"I do not think it will be necessary."

"Oh." _Shit, I've blown it. _

"As per the definition of 'relationship' that both you and Doctor McCoy were inferring, I do believe we now meet the criteria. Therefore, having the conversation again is illogical, as we now both know the answer to the question I asked."

"Huh…?"

Spock quirked an eyebrow at him, a faint but amused smile on his face.

"Captain, I am attempting to subtly imply that I would be amenable to repeating the events of the past 36.2 minutes as often and as vigorously as you desire. However you are being most obstinately slow in your understanding."

"Oh. _Oh. _Shit Spock, I thought you were freaking out about this and saying never again."

"I do not see how that would be a viable option. What are you doing?"

"Snuggling," Jim said a little sleepily, nuzzling his head into the crook of Spock's arm. "Humans do it after sex. You smell good."

"I do not believe the combination of sweat, ejaculate and pheromones I am currently emitting can be 'good', Captain. I feel most unclean. Also you are spreading semen onto my bed sheets."

"Some of it is your semen," Jim responded, burying his face into Spock.

"I am aware of that, but I do not see the relevance."

"Shut up and kiss me, Spock."

Spock sighed tolerantly and leaned over to kiss Jim, languidly this time, the urgency and desperation of earlier sated for now. Jim grinned into the kiss, reaching out to run his two fingers over Spock's at the same time just so he could feel the Vulcan shiver a little.

When they pulled apart, Spock said, "I am going to shower, if you have no further objections? Perhaps you should see the Doctor, Captain. You look a little bruised."

"Will you call me Jim, _please?_ I hardly think we need to keep with the formality when I've seen your cock."

"Technically, you were not seeing it so much as feeling it," Spock replied mildly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"No need to get so smug," Jim grumbled good-naturedly, pushing Spock out of bed. "Go shower, I'll brave Bones."

"Very well, Captain."

Jim stood gingerly, wincing with every step, and pulled on his clothes before stumbling towards sickbay.

Bones looked up from his notes as Jim swayed through the door, instantly concerned. "Jim, what's the matter?"

"Bruised. Need patched up."

"Jim, this had better not be your nose again."

Jim smiled winningly. "It's not my nose again!"

"Then what the hell is it?"

"Everything."

Bones eyed him suspiciously. "God damn it, Jim, what the hell have you been doing with that pointy-eared excuse for a First Officer?"

"Uh…" Jim pulled off his shirt, showing the Doctor his array of bruises ranging from deep blues to blacks and purple. All were neatly finger shaped, and most clustered around his throat.

"You had another fight? I told you to stop-"

"No, Bones, we…well, as Spock would put it, we 'engaged in sexual activity which has left my intimate areas damaged'."

McCoy spluttered, leaning on his desk for support. "For the love of God, man! I don't want to hear the details of your sordid adventures in Spock!"

"That _wasn't_ the details! And I wasn't in Spock; he was in me, which is _why_ I'm here!"

"Damn it Jim, stop! It was detailed enough that I'm going to need therapy for months, which I will be billing straight to you. Don't make it even worse!"

"Fine, I'll pay for you to work through your clearly very deep issues. Just please, fix me up."

"Drop your pants."

"Oh Leonard, I didn't know you cared."

"Shut up or I'll find a creative use for this hypospray that you will _not_ enjoy."

Not really enough hours later, Jim was back on the bridge for his next shift, still aching but much more pleasantly. He was in a delightfully content mood, casting approving glances at his crew without so much as swinging his chair around.

"Captain, are you feeling okay?" Chekov asked him eventually.

"Fantastic," Jim replied, leaning back in his chair. Chekov glanced at Sulu and sighed, his face falling, as he picked up another bottle of whiskey and handed it over to the pilot. "You were right, Hikaru." Sulu put it beside his station. "I'm always right."

Chekov muttered something in Russian that sounded a lot like a curse.

"You had a bet on my mood?"

"No, Captain," Sulu replied with a sly grin. "But there's only one thing that could put you in a mood like that, and it's loud enough for half the crew to have heard."

Jim felt his face flush, sensing that now familiar stare on the back on his neck again, insistent and distracting. He glanced around to find Spock finally just watching him openly, an almost possessive, settled look in his eyes. He merely raised an eyebrow at Jim when caught, shrugging his shoulders a little in a mildly amused gesture that no one else would have picked up, and then turned back to his station. Jim smiled, swinging back towards Sulu and Chekov. "As you were, gentlemen. Warp 6. Let's go do that exploration thing. And Sulu, you can share that whiskey with the crew later- I think you have enough of it to go around, thanks to me."

"Aye aye, Captain."


End file.
